both a beginning and an end
by bumblefly
Summary: an exploration of the five senses pertaining to pre-series robin & marian. how their firsts took place. feedback is greatly appreciated.


_(The first time he sees her, his heart skips a beat.)_

He is a carefree boy no older than twelve when she walks past, basket in hand and it feels like his world stops. The hand with the wooden sword remains raised as he turns his head to watch her form. She walks over to a young girl, takes a few oranges out of the basket and hands them to the now delighted girl. If he had thought she was a beauty then, it was nothing to the smile that now lit up her face. He cannot take his eyes off her face, even when she sees him gawking and scowls. How silly these boys are, fighting all day when there are still people to be fed. Even if he had never heard of her until this moment, her father had told her all about Robin of Locksley and she knew enough to stay away. She wanted to grow up as a realistic woman but perhaps it was the idealistic part of her that sniggered as his opponent hit him on the side of his head. She did not think that she would mind playing with these boys. Though it had seemed so to him, the world had not really stopped. It was the first time Much had ever won at (wooden) sword fighting.

_(Her face is imprinted on his mind and he can fight another day.)_

* * *

_(The first time he holds her hand, it is with fear of being slapped.)_

She does not mind that he moves aside branches and makes her path clearer as he leads her through the forest for the first time. He watches her and wonders when it had happened that she had learnt to trust him so, when she catches him looking. She smiles and this is encouragement enough. He reaches out and takes hold of her hand, afraid that he is being too direct but she does not pull away. She convinces herself that he is simply being chivalrous yet the truth is that twelve year old Marian is infatuated. Her heartbeat increases and she feels light-headed but she interlaces her fingers with his, conveying through actions what words cannot. They walk the path together.

_(When she bathes, she lifts that hand away from the water.)_

* * *

_(The first time he kisses her, he does so without permission.) _

This boy could make a sport out of any activity. _Evading Much_ was his favourite. Walking along the beaten path with his two unlikely best friends (his manservant and the love of his life) he had suddenly called out to the latter before taking off at a fast sprint into unknown territory. And there she was, following with her dress raised, laughing and trying to catch up. He scrambles up a tree and offers her his arm, which to his surprise, she accepts. The thought enters her mind before she can even think clearly; _this fifteen year old boy must be well built to have enough strength to haul her up._ An unexpected blush creeps onto her faced accompanied shortly by a giggle. She is told to hush as calls of _Master?_ are heard below them, but she has started and she cannot stop. She covers her mouth to stifle her laughter but he removes her hand and she is resolved. There is only time for her to catch her breath before he knocks it right out of her again; his lips on hers and she _knows_ she should stop him but her eyes involuntarily close and nothing else matters. Her subconscious blocks out the sound of Much frantically searching for the couple and magnifies the birdsong until all else she hears is his ragged breath, her heart beating wildly. All that matters is now. _Evading Much_ soon becomes a favourite pastime of the two youth.

_(His taste lingers in her mouth and she will not eat.)_

* * *

_(The first time he makes a promise of the future, they both believe it with all their heart.) _

They are young and in love, spending lazy days idly talking, dreaming, exploring; lying on their stomachs on overgrown grass and the sound of their laughter fills the air. And suddenly there is silence. It amazes her how fast his expression can change. From nonchalant jesting to a sudden seriousness; a look he reserves only for her. So intense is his gaze that she blushes and averts her eyes when he takes her hand in his. When she looks back up he has tied a daisy around her ring finger. He grazes his lips over her hand and she inhales; the scent of grass, daisies, the rain that had fallen all night and him filling her every sense. He promises her without ever opening his mouth.

_(Whenever she feels alone, she smells the flower and he is there.)_

* * *

_(The first time he dies, he kills her as well.) _

He does not know what else he is trying to prove (besides himself) by intending to fight alongside King Richard. Eighteen years of age and she thinks this is the last she will see him. Duty, he says, but what about _her?_ What about all his promises? The fool of a man (_no, a boy,_ she corrects) craves no more than fame and glory. She turns her back on him and she has stopped breathing. Her entire body is trembling with the sudden realisation; he had never actually promised her anything. She clenches her fists and breathes deeply before turning to him. The tension is almost tangible as her indifference washes over him. He would even have preferred anger, _coldness_ over this Marian. He had wanted assurance that she would wait for him. She had wanted assurance that he would come back.

Sometimes she wonders what would have happened if she had not been so stubborn. When she replays the scene in her head, she eventually forgets the sincerity in his look, the hitch in his voice. Sometimes she forgets the colour of his hair, or the feeling of her hands in his. She often hears his voice (sometimes she even hears Much) and her heart skips a beat. In her mind, she had never cut him off. In her mind, _Maid Marian_ and _Robin of Locksley_ were more than simply legend.

"Marian, I lo-"  
"Well, go."

_(In time, the nightmares fade but his voice never falters.)_


End file.
